Cassandra Clare

Take my hands,_ Alec said. __nd take my strength too. Whatever of it you can use to_ to keep yourself going.

Temper us in fire, and we grow stronger. When we suffer, we survive.

These pictures are my heart. And if my heart was a canvas, every square inch of it would be painted over with you.

Aaron was wearing a T-shirt that was practically transparent with washing and sweatpants with a hole in the knee. His blond hair stuck up like duck fluff and he looked barely awake. Tamara looked tense. Her hair was carefully braided and she wore pink pajamas that said I FIGHT LIKE A GIRL across the front. Under the words was a screen print of cartoon girls executing deadly ninja moves.

She shook her head. She was so pale under the diffuse lamp-light that she looked almost transparent, as if Simon could have looked right through her. The way, he supposed, he always had.

Your angel cannot protect you against that which neither god nor the devil had made

Surely, she was too young to have so many ghosts.

My one true love remains my self... I dump myself occasionally to keep it interesting

Your pretense does not fool me, gnome. My eye will be upon you.

Fiction is truth, even if it is not a fact. If you believe only in facts and forget stories, your brain will live, but your heart will die.

Our fathers were demons,' Catarina said. 'Our mothers were heroes.

You shouldn't do that. Not to your child. You should-carry your own burdens.

We find in our children our own selves again, who might be made better than we are.

One does silly things when one is twelve.

I was trying to make you jealous!" Simon screamed, right back. His hands were fisted at his sides. "You're so stupid, Clary. You're so stupid, can't you see anything?"She stared at him in bewilderment. What on earth did he mean? "Trying to make me jealous? Why would you try to do that?"She saw immediately that this was the worst thing she could have asked him."Because," he said, so bitterly that it shocked her, "I've been in love with you for ten years, so I thought it seemed like the time to find out whether you felt the same about me. Which, I guess you don't.

My shoulder will never be the same. I expect you to nurse me back to health.

Let me put it this way, my father believed in a righteous God. Deus volt, that was his motto- 'because God wills it.' It was the Crusaders' motto, and they went into battle and were slaughtered just like my father. And when I saw him lying dead in a pool of his own blood, I knew then that I hadn't stopped believing in God. I'd just stopped believing God cared. There might be a God, Clary, and there might not, but I don't think it matters. Either way we're on our own.

As if we__ have sex in a cave surrounded by hordes of demons. This is reality, not your fevered imagination.